


Teen Hearts Beating Faster

by bitscrawford



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Porn, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitscrawford/pseuds/bitscrawford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven just looks around, the corners of her lips quirked upward. “So,” she starts. It looks like she’s trying to hold back a smile and it makes something clench in Clarke’s gut - she’s not gonna like what the brunette has to say next. “This is the same bathroom.” Clarke lets her eyes fall shut for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly. When she opens them, Raven’s looking down at her phone, then back up at Clarke, then down at her phone again. “Yeah, looks familiar.” There’s a smirk on her lips. Clarke wants to kiss it off, which. When did that happen?</p>
<p>based on the prompt: "i meant to send these nudes to my ex but i accidentally sent them to you instead."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teen Hearts Beating Faster

She’s a lot drunker than she’d originally planned on getting. 

Monty and Jasper mix up this wicked jungle juice in their dorm room and they won’t tell anyone what exactly goes in it, so she’s not _entirely_ to blame. It doesn’t taste like there’s any alcohol in it, but Clarke learned a long time ago that those drinks are the most dangerous. Especially when she’s in a stranger’s apartment and Octavia went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago, never to be seen again. (Okay, so she’s clearly making out with Lincoln in the kitchen, but Clarke’s not about to intrude. The two of them barely get to spend enough time together as it is.)

There are a few people that she knows scattered throughout the party: Monty, Jasper, and Miller are all crowded around the food table, simultaneously making sure the jungle juice is stocked and eating all the snacks. Monty and Jasper look like they’re arguing about something, but Miller just looks amused. Bellamy’s flirting with a freshman, which makes Clarke wrinkle her nose and turn away with a frown. He should really be going after girls his own age. Anya’s arguing with some frat boys in the corner and Clarke’s pretty sure that’s gonna turn into a physical fight in, like, two seconds. She’d send someone to intervene, but she’s seen Anya win more fights than she’d ever thought possible, so she lets the older girl handle it on her own. 

She shouldn’t even be here.

She’s got an exam in a couple days and she really should be studying. Being pre-med isn’t easy. Everyone yelled at her when she tried to tell them that, though; she got an earful of “C’mon Clarke, it’s _Saturday_ ” and “You already spend way too much time studying - have a little fun for once!” Women much stronger than her would have given in to the whining and complaining far sooner than she did. 

So she’s standing against the wall with an almost-empty cup of jungle juice, her head a little fuzzy, her cheeks warm and her eyes glassy. She does what any college girl alone at a party would do: she pulls out her phone. 

She spends a couple minutes scrolling aimlessly through various social networking apps, but everyone she’d have any notifications from is currently having fun, like, 5 feet away from her, so it’s safe to say there’s nothing interesting there to hold her attention. Frowning, she looks through her contacts. There has to be _someone_ she can text. And then she sees his name.

Finn.

They’d dated for most of her freshman year and Clarke had been convinced that she was in love. But then she’d found out that, much to her surprise, he’d been dating someone else at the same time. 

Raven. 

There was nothing wrong with Raven and Clarke held no ill will toward her at all - in fact, Clarke _liked_ the girl. She was blunt, strong, sure of herself, not to mention gorgeous. But at the time, those same qualities had been the very things she’d found herself getting jealous over. They were total opposites. 

Had it been Clarke’s inexperience? She’d only ever been with Finn, and he’d said that he was okay with that, but. Anyway. 

There’s no use in Clarke getting caught up in nostalgia or her past mistakes. She’s better now, better without him. She’s stronger, more confident, more experienced and, for one of the first times in her life, she knows she deserves much better than a pretty boy with pretty words who told her what she’d wanted to hear once upon a time. She deserves honesty and faithfulness and commitment. 

She knows this. But she also knows that she’s drunk and she’s lonely and she wants a little attention. She’s sick of always being the good girl, of being the one who stays in a Saturday nights and studies, the innocent virgin who gets cheated on so easily, the dependable mom of their little social circle. She wants to do something a little wild. 

It’s a stupid idea. She knows this.

She does it anyway.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she pushes through the crowd, muttering “Excuse me, sorry,” as she goes, finally finding the bathroom. She only has to wait a few minutes for an opening, slides in and locks the door behind her. She presses her back against the cold wood and lets her eyes flutter shut, her heart going absolutely fucking crazy in her chest. She’s never done anything like this before. (That’s kind of the point.) She hasn’t even started doing anything yet and she’s already second-guessing herself. (That’s the last thing she wants.) 

Setting her phone on the side of the sink, she leans in close to the mirror and using her fingers to wipe the eyeliner that’s smudged underneath her eyes, she exhales slowly. “You can do this, Griffin,” she murmurs, her words only slightly slurred. “Show him what he gave up so easily.” Her lips curve up in a little smirk and she takes a step back, fingers toying with the hem of her shirt before she pulls it off completely, dropping it. She tilts her head to the side and considers whether or not to take off her bra, too. “Go big or go home, right?” Nodding to herself, she reaches back and unclasps it with ease, her nipples pebbling in the cold air. Her skirt is quickly added to the pile, but she decides to leave her panties on. She’s gotta leave _something_ to the imagination, after all.

Opening up the camera app on her phone, she tries a couple of poses: pointed at the mirror with the flash hiding most of her face, selfie-mode with her teeth worrying into her bottom lip, pointed at the mirror without the flash. None of them turn out the way she wants and, God, this would be so much easier if she had someone to hold the camera for her. But someone’s knocking on the door and telling her to hurry up and she knows that if she gets her clothes back on and goes out there to ask Octavia to help her, she’ll chicken out. It’s now or never. So she snaps a couple of random selfies with just enough exposed and quickly throws on her clothes, hoping she doesn’t look too dishevelled. 

“Alright, alright,” she grumbles, shoving past the people waiting outside the bathroom door. Her fingers are moving quickly across the keyboard on her phone and she presses send without reading through it, her hands shaking and her eyes closed. Now all she can do is wait. (She gets another drink and downs it faster than she should, hoping for some good, old-fashioned liquid courage.) 

Her phone vibrates and she pulls it out of her pocket (God, she’s so thankful this skirt has pockets) that it goes flying, hitting a guy in the shoulder. She sheepishly apologizes when he glares and retrieves it, her fingers fumbling through her passcode a few times before she gets it right. The response on her screen is not exactly what she’d expected. 

**(finn’s gf): what the hell are you doing?**

Clarke frowns. 

**(clarke): what does it look like i’m doing?**

She’s a little impressed by her ability to drunk text - the typos are few and far between. 

**(finn’s gf): it looks like your fingers are tugging on the waistband of your panties  
(finn’s gf): and you’re not wearing any other clothes**

A self-satisfied grin comes to her lips, but she can’t help but feel a little bit of anxiety at the same time. Why hasn’t he complimented her body? Why hasn’t he said anything? Her teeth bite into her bottom lip harder than they should and she takes another drink, retreating to a relatively unoccupied couch where she can find some solace in the comfy cushions and try to analyze every single word in every single one of Finn’s texts. 

**(clarke): i always knew you were smart, finn**

Octavia’s gonna freak when she sees how much of her nail polish Clarke has peeled off. It’s a nervous habit. 

Her heart very nearly falls out of her ass when she sees the next text. 

**(finn’s gf): clarke  
** (finn’s gf): this isn’t finn  
(finn’s gf): it’s raven 

“Oh my God,” she breathes, her mouth falling open in surprise and her cheeks going up in flames. “Holy _shit_.” She drops her phone in her lap and buries her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut so hard that she sees stars. In her rush to get out of the bathroom, she must have sent it to Raven instead. She’d initially saved the girl’s number under “finn’s gf” when they’d met; she’d been too lazy to change it. It’s not like they ever texted each other. Until now, apparently. It takes a good five minutes for her heart rate to settle down, but she’s still humiliated. There are a few unopened texts waiting for her when she manages to build up the courage to pick up her phone. 

**(finn’s gf): why are you sending finn nudes?  
** (finn’s gf): are you guys back together or something?  
(finn’s gf): wait  
(finn’s gf): i actually don’t care  
(finn’s gf): let’s just pretend this never happened 

And then, a couple minutes later. 

**(finn’s gf): they’re good nudes though**

She’s humiliated, but she has to respond. The thought that Raven now thinks of Clarke as that kind of girl makes her feel sick to her stomach. (She knows there’s nothing wrong with people who send nudes, but it’s just not _her_.) The adrenaline pumping through her veins and the ball of embarrassment and hot shame forming in the pit of her stomach has her sobering up faster than she’d like. 

**(clarke): oh my god raven  
** (clarke): no finn and i aren’t together i’m just  
(clarke): drunk and stupid  
(clarke): i’m so sorry  
(clarke): i’ve never done anything like this before  
(clarke): i hope you don’t think less of me because of this 

She wants to curl up in a ball and die - that would be less painful than this. Thankfully, Raven’s always been a fast texter. She remembers that from when they were figuring out the logistics of Finn’s cheating. 

**(finn’s gf): shut up clarke you’re fine  
** (finn’s gf): just took me by surprise  
(finn’s gf): didn’t know you had it in you tbh 

There’s a frown on her face as her fingers move deftly across the touch screen, a crinkle in her brow forming as she concentrates on getting the perfect response. She’s not sure why she cares so much. Then again, she’s always kind of wanted Raven to like her. 

**(clarke): what does that mean?**

She changes Raven’s contact information in her phone, if only so she doesn’t have to see Finn’s name every time she gets a new text.

**(raven): c’mon  
(raven): you’re as “little goody two shoes” as they come**

A million and one people have told Clarke that she’s good, that she’s innocent, that there’s something about her blonde hair and her compassion that makes her look and act like an angel. (Okay, so her mom’s the only one who’s said that last part, but whatever.) She’s never really cared about it before. Hearing it from Raven makes Clarke wanna prove her wrong, though. 

**(clarke): apparently not**

**(raven): touche**

The quick response has the corners of her lips quirking up, her eyes glued to the screen. There could be a nuclear apocalypse happening right in front of her and she probably wouldn’t notice. She wants to know what the expression on Raven’s face looks like, wants to know what she’s wearing and whether she’s having a good time right now. Without thinking about why she’s doing it or what she’s hoping to gain, she asks Raven what she’s doing. The response is almost instantaneous. 

**(raven): nothing. why?**

She invites Raven to the party even though it’s not her apartment. It’s not like anyone will notice one more person shoving through the crowd. There’s no response and she’s a little bummed, worried that she made it weird. Well, weirder than it was before. She sits and pouts for a little while before forcing herself to get up and dance; it’s what Octavia would tell her to do. Usually, Clarke’s the one telling Octavia what to do - it’s nice to take (imaginary) instruction for once. 

There’s just enough jungle juice in her system to give her a little buzz; not enough to make her head spin or her words slur anymore, but enough to let her dance without any inhibitions. A trashy rap song is blasting from speakers somewhere and she sways her hips as her heartbeat matches the bass line. She lets her eyes close, her hair falling in her face a little bit as she bumps into people on all sides of her. She’s not really dancing _with_ anyone, but there are people dancing close enough that they’re touching her. It’s enough for now.

A rivulet of sweat is rolling down her neck, her hair sticking to her forehead, when she feels hands on her hips guiding her movements the slightest bit. She doesn’t even open her eyes, just lets it happen and keeps moving. The fingers press down, pulling her back until she’s flush against a warm body, their hips colliding, a small noise falling from Clarke’s lips at the impact. 

It’s a girl.

That’s the only information she can discern from the contact, and a part of her wants to believe it’s Raven. She knows, logically speaking, that the lack of response from the brunette means she’s probably in her room somewhere doing whatever it is that Raven does when she’s alone, but a girl can dream, can’t she? So she bites down on her bottom lip and grinds her hips back, pictures Raven’s full lips parting in a gasp at the contact. She does it again, harder this time, in an effort to get some sort of response from her dance partner.

“Jesus, Clarke.” It’s murmured low in her ear, hot breath fanning across her skin, and Clarke’s eyes go wide, her own lips parting in a gasp for real this time. 

“Raven?” She spins so quickly in her arms that her blonde hair ends up whipping Raven in the face on the way. “Sorry,” she mumbles, a definite wrinkle in her brow. She’s confused and a little bit miffed that she never texted her back, but her hands start toying with the hem of Raven’s white tank top regardless. It’s instinct. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you invited me.” One of Raven’s hands leaves her hip to tuck a piece of dark hair behind her ear, a single eyebrow quirked.

“You never responded,” Clarke points out. 

Raven just shrugs a shoulder, her eyes darting from Clarke’s eyes to her mouth and back again. It makes Clarke swallow hard to get past the newly formed lump in her throat, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Her mouth has just gotten really, really dry all of a sudden. “Figured actually showing up would be enough of a response.” 

“Well, I’m glad you came.” They have to yell to be heard over the music, so Clarke grabs Raven’s hand, pulls her toward the same bathroom she’d taken the pictures in. Her cheeks flush a dark shade of pink at the memory as she tugs the door open, closing it quickly behind Raven. “Now we can actually hear each other,” she explains. 

Raven just looks around, the corners of her lips quirked upward. “So,” she starts. It looks like she’s trying to hold back a smile and it makes something clench in Clarke’s gut - she’s not gonna like what the brunette has to say next. “This is the same bathroom.” Clarke lets her eyes fall shut for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly. When she opens them, Raven’s looking down at her phone, then back up at Clarke, then down at her phone again. “Yeah, looks familiar.” There’s a smirk on her lips. Clarke wants to kiss it off, which. When did that happen?

“About that,” Clarke starts, a hand coming up to push her hair out of her sweaty face. She avoids the mirror, knows more of her makeup has probably smudged and that her face is most likely red from exertion. She’s not even sure how long she was dancing before Raven had shown up; one song had bled into another until she’d lost count. “I’m really sorry.” When she looks up at Raven through her eyelashes, the brunette looks extremely amused. “What?”

“Relax, Clarke. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

She frowns, walking over and sitting down on the closed toilet seat. “Yes, I do. You were probably hanging out in your room or something and I totally interrupted your night. God, what if you were _with_ someone? Or what if you were trying to write a really important paper and I totally diverted your focus? Or what if - ”

Raven cuts her off, thank God. “Jesus, take a breath between sentences.” She laughs a little bit at the pout that forms on Clarke’s lips, steps closer. “I _was_ with someone.” Clarke’s eyes go wide and Raven rolls hers. “When I saw that picture…” she trails off, looking up at the ceiling and laughing once to herself. “Well, I told her to get lost and I came here.” 

“Why?” It doesn’t even register that Raven’s talking about a girl.

“Have you looked at the picture since you sent it?” Clarke shakes her head - she couldn’t bring herself to assess the damage done. Honestly, she never wants to see it again; it’ll probably just make her hang her head in shame and punch Monty in the shoulder for making the jungle juice so strong tonight. “You should.”

“I’m good.” She keeps her eyes trained on her shoes, tilting her head to the side a little bit as she admires Octavia’s choice of nail polish. 

“Why not?”

Clarke just shrugs a shoulder, fingers toying with the hem of her skirt. Hopefully Raven won’t notice that her hands are shaking. Honestly, she doesn’t even know why she’s nervous. She’s got nothing to prove. She’s not trying to impress anyone and she’s certainly not trying to figure out what Raven’s thinking about her right now. (Okay, she totally is, but she’ll never admit it.) “Talk about embarrassing,” she murmurs, laughing a couple of times without humor. 

“Shut up.” It makes Clarke look up at her. “It’s totally hot.” Clarke just rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile teasing at the corners of her lips anyway. “I’m serious, Clarke. Look at it.” There’s something in Raven’s voice that makes her wanna comply, so she pulls out her phone, thumbs the passcode, and opens her sent messages. Chewing on her bottom lip, she scrolls through her conversation with Raven until she finds the initial picture, her heart racing in her chest. It’s not awful. In fact, if she lets herself look at it objectively, she can admit to herself that it’s a good picture. Had it been anyone else, Clarke probably would have complimented them on the flat expanse of their tummy (okay, there’s a little bit of a curve there, but Clarke likes it, thinks it’s cute, likes how soft she is around the edges) and their full breasts. It’s a decent picture. Maybe she even likes it a little bit. “You totally think you’re hot,” Raven teases and suddenly, when Clarke looks up, she can see that the brunette is right in front of her. She has to physically tilt her head upward to see her face. 

“Not as hot as you.” It’s out before she can think twice. She’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t true. 

“Shut up,” Raven repeats. It’s different this time, though, a lot quieter and a little bit breathless. Clarke doesn’t say anything, just looks up at Raven’s dark eyes, the way her full lashes frame them, her perfect eyeliner, the way her hair falls around her face. It’s the first time she’s seen the other girl without a ponytail and, God, she really likes it. She kind of wants to run her hands through her hair; it looks soft. There’s an insistent knock on the door and Raven doesn’t even break eye contact, just yells a quick “fuck off” and nudges Clarke’s knees apart. She’s wearing a skirt, but it’s nothing Raven hasn’t already seen tonight. Raven steps between her legs and Clarke tilts her head back a bit more, tongue swiping along her bottom lip. Raven leans down. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” It’s not a question, but she still hesitates just in front of Clarke’s face, waits for some sort of sign that this is okay. It makes something in her chest skip a beat and her breath very nearly hitches in her throat. 

Clarke nods. “Okay.” 

And then Raven’s hands are on her face, their lips brushing against each other’s the slightest bit. It’s feather-light, barely anything, but it makes something coil hot and needy in Clarke’s stomach. Raven’s not the first girl she’s ever kissed by any means, but it’s certainly been a while. There’s something about kissing a girl - the soft lips, smooth skin, sweet smell - that’s much better than kissing any boy, no matter the skill level. She’s missed this.

It’s not enough, though. Clarke pushes Raven back so she can stand up, level the playing field. A hurt look flashes across Raven’s face for the briefest of moments, but it’s quickly replaced by a blank facade. She’s walking toward the door before Clarke can reconnect their lips, which. That really won’t do. “Raven,” she breathes, reaching forward, her fingers wrapping around her thin, tanned wrist. “Did I say you could leave?” She’s only teasing, but it makes Raven quirk an eyebrow anyway. 

“Oh, so I need your permission now?” 

Clarke shrugs a shoulder, closes the small distance between them and puts her hands on Raven’s hips, pulling her back in. “No, but it got you to stop, didn’t it?” Raven just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. 

“Stop talking, Clarke.”

“Yeah, okay.” 

They’re finally kissing for real and it practically makes Clarke’s knees buckle. Thankfully, Raven’s got a solution for that. She leads Clarke until the sink presses against the small of her back, the cold porcelain cooling her hot skin through her shirt. Raven’s an unbelievably good kisser, her tongue licking hot into Clarke’s mouth, pulling an embarrassing whimper from her. Raven’s hands on her hips lift her up and push her back, her ass finding the edge of the sink. She scoots back a little, hands hitching her skirt up around her hips so Raven can slide between her legs, her arms wrapping around the brunette’s neck. Raven’s hands are hot on her thighs, thumbs kneading the soft skin. 

Clarke’s breath catches in her throat and she has to pull her mouth away to catch her breath, her lips kiss-swollen, her eyes lidded, her chest heaving. Raven doesn’t even hesitate, just skims her lips across Clarke’s jaw, teeth biting a little at the bone before she licks at her pulse point, making Clarke swear under her breath. “Such bad words from such a good girl,” Raven teases, her hot breath fanning across Clarke’s neck when she speaks. 

“I’m not _that_ good,” Clarke protests. Her voice sounds lower than usual, rough. 

“No?” She shakes her head. “Prove it.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows, pulls back a little to look at Raven, an incredulous expression on her face. “My skirt is basically off and we’re making out in someone’s bathroom. I don’t even know whose apartment this is.” Raven just smirks and shrugs a shoulder. Clarke knows what that means: not bad enough. She sighs, leaning back against the mirror and lifting her hips just enough to slip her panties off, letting them fall on the floor in front of Raven. She doesn’t know what she’s trying to prove or why she’s so hell-bent on impressing Raven, but it’s strange and exhilarating and she’s excited to see just how far she’s willing to go, to test her own limits. 

For the first time, Raven actually looks a little shocked, her lips parting as she looks down at Clarke’s hips, her thumbs rubbing small circles against the pale skin of Clarke’s thighs, her forehead resting against the blonde’s shoulder. Her skirt is hiked up, but she’s not entirely exposed - at least, not yet. “Bad enough for you?” She goes for some sort of seductive tone, but she falls just short. It comes out a little uncertain, shaky, scared. 

“Fuck, Clarke,” Raven breathes, kissing Clarke hard. “So fucking hot,” she murmurs against her lips, making the fear that had started to bloom in Clarke’s chest wither and fade away. “When did you get so hot?” It makes Clarke laugh, but it’s quickly lost in her throat when she feels Raven’s hand inching up her skirt. “This okay?” she asks, stilling her movements when she feels Clarke tense. 

Clarke nods quickly, swallowing hard, a tiny crinkle forming in her brow. “It’s just been a while,” she admits. (She leaves out the part where she tells Raven that the last time she’d had an orgasm with another person present was with Finn. Yeah, it’s been over a year - she’s practically aching for this. ) “I’m a little nervous.” She scoots forward on the sink, her legs wrapping around Raven’s waist and her hands finding the brunette’s shoulders so she can stay upright. It only manages to bring Raven’s hands higher up her thighs, which. Well, she’s not going to complain. “But I want this,” she breathes, blue eyes locking with Raven’s brown ones. 

Raven just leans down and presses her lips softly to Clarke’s pulse point, a hand inching higher and higher until her fingers find wet heat, a stuttering gasp falling from Clarke’s lips. She draws it out, exploring and teasing and turning Clarke into an incoherent mess in no time at all. “ _C’mon_ ,” she whines, and she just knows that her cheeks are bright red by now. 

“What do you want?” Raven asks, her voice much huskier than Clarke remembered it being a moment ago. 

“ _Please_.” She doesn’t even know what she wants, just knows that it’s a lot more intense than this game Raven’s started playing where she touches Clarke everywhere except where she needs it most. “More.” 

“More what?” Clarke can practically _hear_ the smirk in the other girl’s voice. 

“Just --” Her hand finds Raven’s wrist and she uses it to guide long, lithe fingers exactly where she wants them, her own fingers moving to press over Raven’s, applying just enough pressure to her clit to make her back arch and her mouth fall open. “ -- there,” she sighs, lips forming a blissed-out grin. 

Raven pushes Clarke’s fingers off of her own and starts applying more pressure, her thumb expertly moving in tiny circles over her clit. Clarke chooses not to think about how many times Raven has done this, whether her skill comes from exploring her own body or someone else’s. It’s not like it’s any of her business, anyway. “Stay with me,” Raven breathes, her free hand coming up so her thumb presses into Clarke’s jaw, guides her face so she’s looking at Raven again. “I can practically hear you thinking too hard.” She frowns a little before pressing a single digit into her, changing the angle of her wrist so her thumb stays on Clarke’s clit. “I’m gonna make it so you can’t think at all,” she boasts, dark eyes lidded as she looks up at Clarke through her lashes. 

“Please,” she repeats, unable to form any other words. She’s pretty sure her entire body is focused on how good this feels, how Raven is curving her finger as she pulls it out before pushing it in again at an agonizingly slow pace - there’s no way her brain has enough power to even think of doing anything than feeling it. Somehow, though, she manages to whimper as Raven adds another finger, the delicious stretch of it making her clench down even harder on Raven’s fingers. 

“Good?” she asks. Clarke would roll her eyes if they weren’t already squeezed shut. Raven _knows_ she’s loving this - she just wants to hear Clarke say it. “Look at me.” 

There’s nothing Clarke hates more than someone trying to boss her around, but there’s something in Raven’s voice that makes desire curl in her stomach, hot and needy and desperate. So she does what she’s told yet again, just managing to force her eyelids open. Raven’s free hand comes up and pinches Clarke’s nipple, the slight sting of pain mixing with pleasure in a way that Clarke’s never experienced before. 

A hand comes up to cover her mouth - she’s all too aware of the people lined up outside the door waiting for a chance to get in. If they heard her, it’d be the second most embarrassing thing to happen tonight. Raven uses her free hand to tug it away, though, shaking her head. “Wanna hear you.”

Clarke groans, her hips starting to roll against Raven’s hand of their own volition. “If you hear me, everyone else will, too,” she complains. 

“Good.”

“Oh, God.” She can feel it building, her breathing getting faster, her hips pressing harder against Raven’s fingers. She’s getting closer and closer to the cliff, the flush on her face spreading down her chest, and, God, she’s dying to fall over the edge. “Raven,” she moans, her head falling back and bumping against the mirror. 

“Again.”

“Hm?”

“Say my name again. Wanna hear it when you come.” 

That’s really all it takes. She’s surprisingly quiet when she comes (though she manages to whimper Raven’s name a couple of times), her back arching and her thighs trembling. It takes a moment for the static in her head to clear and, when it does, she’s pressing her forehead against Raven’s shoulder, little tendrils of blonde hair sticking to the sweat on her neck. Raven’s rubbing her back, peppering kisses along her cheeks, her neck, her jaw, anywhere she can reach. It’s sweet. 

She goes for the button on Raven’s jeans, her fingers fumbling as her hands shake. (It’s not from nerves this time, but anticipation.) But then Raven’s pushing her hands away and taking a step back, confusion evident on Clarke’s face as she frowns, sliding off the sink and putting her panties back on. 

“You don’t have to,” Raven explains. 

“I want to.” 

Raven bites down on her lip, considering something. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you want to?”

“Because you’re gorgeous and I’m dying to know what you taste like.”

Raven swears under breath, closing the distance between them and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Apparently, that was the right answer. “C’mon,” she murmurs. 

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my place.” 

“What about your roommate?” 

“He went home for the weekend to work on his thesis.”

“Oh.”

“Any more questions?” She tries to look annoyed, but the only word that Clarke can think of to describe the expression on her face is _fond_.

“Nope.”

“Good.”

She tugs Clarke out of the bathroom, not even acknowledging the weird looks coming from all the people in line. She’s focused completely on the front door, expertly weaving her way through the crowd, pushing a little and using her elbows when she has to. It’s flattering, knowing Raven’s this eager for her. 

Passing Octavia, Clarke tugs back on Raven’s hand a little, pulling her to a stop so she can tell her friend and roommate that she probably won’t be coming home tonight. Octavia just looks at her with a single raised eyebrow, eyes darting between her and the brunette curiously. Clarke mirrors her expression, daring her to say something. Octavia just grins, clearly amused. “Have good sex,” she yells over the music. Clarke can’t help but laugh, shaking her head. 

“Don’t worry - I will.” Clarke can hear Octavia’s laugh as they finally get to the door, pulling it open and spilling out into the hallway. The air is much cooler out here without the heat radiating off of drunk college kids surrounding them and it makes goosebumps rise on Clarke’s pale skin. 

Raven presses her back against the wall, a small noise of surprise falling from Clarke’s lips at the sudden movement (and Raven’s thigh between her legs). They make out for a little while before going downstairs, waiting for a taxi to take them back to Raven’s apartment on the other side of campus. 

It takes them a while, but they finally make it into to Raven’s apartment.

It’s well worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written f/f in forever and i was really nervous about the characterization all the way through, so please be gentle!! unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> comments and kudos fuel my muse jsyk
> 
> also, come find me on tumblr if you want!! my url is boobmorleys~
> 
> (if you wanna reblog this fic on tumblr, click [~here~](http://boobmorleys.tumblr.com/post/116375742021/teen-hearts-beating-faster-explicit-the-100))


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